


if you say swim

by newdusks



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Anniversary, Fluff, M/M, Skinny Dipping, in which robbe gets to be the surpriser and sander the suprise-ee, kisses and alcohol and chlorine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26719600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newdusks/pseuds/newdusks
Summary: Sander has to admit that it’s a little daunting to be on this side of things as far as surprises go. He can’t fathom where he is, only that there’s a chemical scent threading with Robbe’s in his nose. A combination that sends him reeling into a past he can’t quite put his finger on.With a sloppy kiss to Sander’s ear and then his neck, Robbe mumbles, “Ready?”
Relationships: Sander Driesen/Robbe IJzermans
Comments: 27
Kudos: 111





	if you say swim

**Author's Note:**

> this is solely for my hellion "someone write this" mutuals whomst i love dearly. go easy on me please. i haven't shared my writing since i was probably 14 years old, but i do hope you enjoy!!

Robbe’s giggling, a little like a madman, but it’s okay because he’s also pressed right up against Sander’s back, hands pulled down over his eyes so he can’t see. And Sander has to admit that it’s a little daunting to be on this side of things as far as surprises go. He can’t even fathom where he is, only that there’s a chemical scent threading with Robbe’s in his nose. A combination that sends him reeling into a past he can’t quite put his finger on.

With a sloppy kiss to Sander’s ear and then his neck, Robbe mumbles, “Ready?”

It takes a beat, but Sander’s reaching one hand up to grip Robbe’s wrist, a silent sign that he’s more than ready for anything Robbe could show him. There’s no intent behind it other than to have his skin on Robbe’s, but he feels Robbe’s heart at his back skip a beat anyway. All this touching and it’ll still never be enough to prepare them for each other.

“Sander…”

With no warning other than his name said in his favorite voice, Sander’s eyes blink open at the sudden lack of blackness or obstruction. It’s a lot to take in for a moment, and then it’s all too simple. 

A pool. Small and oval-shaped. Inky black water in the night, but with tiny tealights strewn randomly around the edge and a bottle of wine and some towels sitting next to the steps. Chlorine, that’s what he was smelling, and this-

Sander spins to look at Robbe, still holding his hand.

“Well? You were right about the locks,” Robbe says, gazing at the water like this was a surprise for _him_. He looks excited. Happy, shoulders bunched to his ears for a moment before he turns to grin at Sander.

“Huh?”

“The locks. At the public pool, remember? You said they changed them.” It’s punctuated with the squeeze of a hand and then Robbe’s lifting the back of Sander’s fingers to his lips and letting go. He makes quick work of his jacket the second he’s out of Sander’s grip, shrugging it off his shoulders and dropping it to the concrete. Next come the shoes and then his shirt. It’s all very fast and takes Sander’s brain a moment too long.

The grin that splits Sander’s face when he does catch up, however, is ridiculous. He can feel the pull at his cheeks and jaw. Smiling so wide and toothy, it’s become more recognizable the longer he’s dated Robbe, but the idea that Robbe has recreated a moment of theirs, more intimate and mature somehow, it’s-

He follows that wave of emotion and crowds into Robbe’s space, love and shock and awe all on the tip of his tongue. He can tell he’s knocked Robbe a little off balance where he was trying to unbuckle his pants, and the words he’s saying stutter and then are swallowed up by Sander’s mouth.

“It’s my aunts, and-”

Followed by kisses so sweet, so deep, so practiced. It’s almost laughable to think about where they were a year ago to this week, caught up in repressed emotions and too many wants. All those wants are haves now. Sander gets to have him any way he likes, any time and any how for the most part. They’ve learned so much together and so much from each other that that public pool in the dead of fall feels miles from his memory, and here Robbe has brought it right back. One part nostalgia, one part newness. Robbe’s mouth on his is a warm mix of past and present and, most importantly, future.

When Robbe pulls away, apparently too caught up in thoughts of his own, he has to put a hand over Sander’s mouth so he can think straight. He knows him far too well.

“As I was _saying_ ,” he giggles, “this is my aunt's house, and she’s out of town for a couple nights, so the pool’s all ours.”

“Oh, really?”

Robbe sputters and knocks their foreheads together, pushing Sander’s leather jacket down his shoulders for him while he keeps talking, “what do you mean ‘oh really’? I’m no vandal.”

That inspires a laugh, one Sander mouths right along his cheek as he lets his hands resume unbuckling Robbe’s belt. It feels different, of course it does. They’re out in the open, in the backyard of some neighborhood Sander doesn’t recognize, but at the same time, the action is all too familiar. He feels Robbe shimmy out of his pants more than sees it and presses a hot open-mouthed kiss to his neck.

“You might not be a vandal, but breaking and entering? I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“You’re one to talk,” Robbe says and reaches out to give Sander’s shoulder a little shove. It puts some much needed distance between them if they ever want to make it into the pool.

They let silence permeate the air for a moment, content to undress in each other’s company, close but not so close as to distract from the task at hand. Sander makes quick work of his own clothes, stripped down to his boxers only, and his hands itch to reach out and grab Robbe by the hips. They’re in no hurry though, so he turns to watch and scrubs his palms through his hair instead, eyes following the way Robbe crouches to his pants pocket, silences his phone, and pulls something out. He bunches his clothes into a neat pile and rounds on the wine bottle a few feet away from them. 

“You really went all out, huh?” Sander asks, cheeks warming at the thought of Robbe eyeballing alcohol bottles and trying to narrow it down to something just the right degree of fancy for the occasion. Truth be told, Sander’s not the biggest fan of wine himself, but Robbe knows he likes it for celebrations, knows he indulges in the feel of something sophisticated over the taste at times, knows that sometimes it’s even just about the artistic merit of a label.

“Of course I did,” Robbe grins, bottom lip sandwiched between his teeth as he tries to uncork the damn thing. He pauses a moment to tap his index finger against the label, “and this, well. I just thought you’d like it.”

There’s a sketchy black illustration of a stairway, but it’s hard to make out much more in the darkness of the backyard. Sander’s heart thumps extra loud in his chest, watching the boy he loves concentrating with so much intensity. He thinks back to a year ago when he had no clue what was to come, stripping himself down and putting himself out there on the barest shred of a chance that maybe… and now, he has this. A boyfriend more thoughtful than even his wildest dreams could have invented, and a life filled with so much hope, so much future, he sometimes doesn’t even know what to do. His whole being vibrates with the urge to step forward and kiss Robbe silly, but he lets him struggle for a few more seconds with the corkscrew and works on calming his own heartbeat.

Robbe finally gets the thing open and takes a big swig for his troubles. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and grimaces at the taste, handing the whole bottle to Sander.

“Not my best pick.”

“Not your best pick, huh?” Sander mumbles, taking the tiniest sip but not swallowing. He doesn’t care about the taste. He pulls Robbe to him with the hand not occupied and cradles his jaw. The kiss is deep from the start, bitter wine mingling and dulling the sweet taste of the dessert they’d had earlier and of each other’s mouths. Sander feels Robbe swallow with a low sound, almost a moan, and then he’s winding his arms around his shoulders. There’s no telling how long they stand there wound around one another, probably looking outrageous clutching a bottle between them in their underwear, but Sander’s skin has goosebumps for all the best reasons.

“What about me? A good pick?” He murmurs, mouths barely parted. He kisses Robbe again before he can answer, but it’s softer.

“The best.”

And maybe, somewhere in those alternate universes Robbe dreams of, this is their first time at this, but right now, it’s familiar and comfortable and warm in the ways Sander thought he’d never have. He’d convinced himself he was too fractured for that, but here he is. He stands hugging the boy of his dreams on the anniversary of their first kiss, and it’s the most reassuring thing he’s ever known.

Robbe pries himself gently from Sander’s warm arms, letting the chilled evening air rush into the new gaps between them. He smiles, kisses the corner of Sander’s mouth, and bends over to set the bottle back on the lip of the pool.

“You ready?”

Sander shoots his most winning grin back at him, slips his thumbs into his waistband, and decides on spot that he’s never been more ready, more happy, to be in a place in his life.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, and feel free to let me know what you think! 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr dot com [here](https://tsjernobyl.tumblr.com/) for any questions, comments, concerns. sending lots of love and thanks!!


End file.
